Timely Prompting
by Hmob1994
Summary: Switzerland is awakened to a nasty reality by France.


**A note from me! **This is a story I wrote for my friend's birthday a while back. Enjoy!

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><p><em>witzerland? Hey, Switzerland!"<em>

"_Hmm? What is it, Austria?"_

"_I made some cakes! Come try one!"_

"… _T-they're good…"_

"_Really? That's good; It's the first time I've made them…"_

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><p>"...other? Big brother?" Switzerland moaned lightly as he was brought out of his dream and slowly opened green eyes, blinking groggily in the cheery morning sun. Above him, Liechtenstein smiled.<p>

"You're awake…" Switzerland grunted in acknowledgement, still trying to drag his mind away from the enticing realms of dream and memory. He pushed himself up, his covers falling down to pool in his lap, and he looked around in a daze.

"What time is it?" He asked, his throat hoarse and voice quiet and raspy. He frowned as his mind started to catch up with him, and, with it, the dream; no, the memory. He'd been having more and more of those recently, and it was a little worrying…

Liechtenstein looked behind her at the plain clock that adorned Switzerland's bedroom wall.

"Half past ten, brother." She told him. Switzerland groaned.

"I've got to get ready…" He muttered, more to himself then to his sister. "France insisted in visiting today…" He glanced at the gentle girl.

"Don't… let him go near you." He warned, swinging his legs out from under his covers. The last thing he needed was the international pervert trying to shatter his little sister's innocence…

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><p>"… but, of course, Germany <em>has<em> to complicate everything; he is, of course, protestant, and dear little Italy is the most devout Catholic, and so it's only _natural_ that he wants a grand wedding, _non_? _Why_ Italy would _ever _want to marry a protestant is beyond me, after that terrible affair with his brother and the fall of Rome. I'm so much better off; there is, after all, very little difference between Catholicism and _L'église de l'Angleterre, oui?_ Of course, _mon cher Angleterre _doesn't want to make a big deal out of our marriage, but I'm _sure_ he wouldn't mind…" Switzerland massaged his temples as France's monologue flowed non-stop through the room. The short-tempered country reminded himself pointedly that, no matter how tempting it was to shoot France where he sat, lounging in his too expensive suit, drinking a glass of his own, too expensive wine (he'd thrust a glass into Switzerland's hands upon his arrival, which sat untouched on the table as Switzerland raised as mug of strong coffee to his lips), it would surely hamper his neutral stance quite a bit. England, for one, would be rather upset…

"And what about you?" Switzerland lifted his head as France (_finally_) stopped talking in favour of watching Switzerland carefully.

"What about me?" He asked, in reality uninterested in the conversation. However, it would be impolite to show that, and if there was one thing he taught his sister (besides how to protect oneself against wild bunnies and the like) was how to mind her manners.

"Well, everyone is, as America would say, "Hooking up", _non_? Germany and Italy, Sweden and Finland, Spain and Romano, England and myself," The flamboyant blonde counted each couple off on his long, elegant fingers as he spoke. "But what about you? When are you finally going to take _Autriche _in your arms and pronounce your undying love…"

Switzerland had to put his coffee down to stop himself from spilling it as he coughed violently, France watching in mild amusement.

"W- What?" Switzerland managed to choke. "Why would you… what could _possibly _make you think that…"

"Ah, but the two of you are so alike, _non_? You are both so frugal, and so eager to save face…" France's coy smirk changed to a soft smile as he leant back. "You have a history not dissimilar to mine and England's… Although, I'll admit, with much less blood baths. You used to be such good friends…" Switzerland looked away pointedly. "And yet now you two can barely stand to be in the same room as each other…"

An eerie, thick silence filled the room, and France sighed.

"I can see I've out-stayed my welcome. _Au revoir, Suisse._ Think about what I've said, _oui_? And you should come around more often; we are neighbours, after all." The Frenchman stood, placing his empty glass next to Switzerland's, and show himself out. Switzerland listened as Liechtenstein bade France farewell, before hearing the front door shut and his sister's quiet footsteps make their way down the hall.

"Big brother?"

Switzerland didn't respond as he stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'm… I'm going to bed." He said, striding past the female nation, who didn't mention that it was only Eleven Thirty and that he'd only just woken up an hour ago. Her brother obviously needed to think about something he should have thought of years ago…

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><p><em>L'église de l'Angleterre<em> – the Church of England

_Mon cher –_ My dear (masculine)

_Angleterre –_ England

_Autriche – _Austria

_Suisse - _Switzerland


End file.
